


King in Wolf's Clothing

by Starbrow



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Food Porn, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbrow/pseuds/Starbrow
Summary: A remix of rthstewart's Wolf In King's Clothing for the NFE "that had Caspian landing in an AU magical England as a werewolf and finding Dr. Lucy Pevensie for his cure. " From Edmund's POV, and it's way more Casmund than intended. Forgive me, Lucians.
Relationships: Caspian/Edmund Pevensie, Caspian/Lucy Pevensie
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18
Collections: Lucian Exchange 2019





	King in Wolf's Clothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Wolf in King's Clothing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458136) by [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart). 



"You both stay here, or sneak Caspian into your bedroom, or hide him in mine. Whatever. I don't care."

She’d always been a terrible liar. He’d always been a better one.

Edmund opened his mouth to protest, but Caspian beat him to it. And Lucy actually listened, as she would not have for her brother. He couldn’t blame her. Anybody would have listened to the kingly Narnian in their care, would have forgiven him.

But still. She was done.

Stepping forward, he moved into Lucy’s path, blocking her dodge, and pulled her against him in a hug. When she would not listen to reason, a good hug would speak volumes. His baby sister. His brilliant, kind-hearted, indomitable sister. They would have each other long after all handsome Narnians were gone from their lives.

"Go. Do what you must, what you do best. Come back before dusk."

Damn it all. Why must she be so _good?_ He knew he couldn’t have been that generous, in her place. Letting her brother go with the man she fancied. Edmund quietly cursed to himself, gathered Caspian, and departed. Staying there was dangerous, as his venture into the lab the other day had proved. He would let her have peace to create her cure, and this time tomorrow Caspian would be fully human, his lycanthropy cured, and most likely back in Narnia.

The irony of it, truly, was that she and Caspian had no time at all, while he and Caspian had a full day of it, and Edmund couldn’t even use it properly. 

Oh, he could have, if he was an ass. The hours they’d spent together had been most enjoyable, with Caspian agog at the wonders of the city and Edmund’s own abilities as he’d placed the wards. If only they’d been able to spend them so enjoyable as dinner and the theatre, he’d have been pleased as punch. And now? Hiding him in his own bedroom sounded like a _fantastic_ idea.

But.

_Lucy._

His better nature warred with baser instincts. Edmund rubbed a hand over his face. Caspian was looking curiously at him with dark, penetrating eyes. Wild thoughts raced through his head, skittering his pulse faster. He wondered if Caspian was able to smell his arousal with his heightened senses. Probably.

Edmund raked fingers through his own hair, making it stand on end. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

They really had to get out of here. And the best idea he had right now was a food tour of London.

~

Five miles as the crow flies and five cartons of food later, they piled off of the air bike, Caspian huffing softly. He’d never quite gotten used to air travel. Not enough Dragons to practice on in Narnia.

Sweet-hot Thai, tangy jerk Jamaican, crunchy-spicy Spanish, fancy French souflee, and a hearty English shepherd’s pie: a world on their plate. Edmund imagined the fun they could have flying to each country, letting Caspian experience it all first-hand instead of merely in bitesize form. They just didn’t have that luxury, did they?

He put up the wards with extra gusto as Caspian spread their feast out on the table. Nobody was getting through today. He probably laid it on too thick. Oh well.

“Dig in,” he urged. “You must be famished.”

Caspian, relieved, nodded and dove into skewers of jerk chicken with peppers and onions. Edmund had always mused on exactly how much of the Wolf nature remained in human form. Nobody knew, of course, but it always seemed to grow stronger the closer they came to full moon, and to wane after.

Speaking of which…

“The Cure, tonight. I should warn you.” The scholarly tone, cultivated carefully, took over. “It will make you feel...not yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Caspian was on to the next skewer. Jamaican was a hit. Either that, or his appetite must really be on the prowl.

Edmund tore a hunk of baguette and buttered it. The epitome of calm British decorum. “You may behave in ways that are more...animalistic. The essence of survival. The desire to hunt, to fight, to fuck.”

The blush under the tan was entirely too appealing. “You are very blunt,” said Caspian, wiping his mouth, the memory of manners still evident. 

“The Cure is very blunt,” said Edmund. “It does not care who it takes, or what it turns them into. It is like sweating a fever out. The process is not pretty.”

Lucy had seen it through before, over and over. He didn’t like to think of Caspian locked up in that cage of Edmund’s own making, driven mad with animal instinct. Yet that was what must happen.

Caspian touched his hand. “Could we...get it over with? Before?”

Edmund bit back a curse. Why did the man make it so easy? “No,” he said, and set down the knife, withdrawing his hand from Caspian’s, and raised the crust of bread to his lips with the other. “It doesn’t work like that. You could have bedded a hundred lovers, and the need would still be there. Just as you will still be hungry, tonight. And if we dueled until then, you’d still want to fight with anyone in your path.”

“So I won’t be myself.”

“Not at all.” He tasted some of the soufflee; still light and fluffy, wholly delicious. “Here.” Lucy had eyed their chopsticks antics in exactly the light she probably should have. But if foreplay was all they had, Edmund intended to enjoy it to the fullest. He offered Caspian a bite, and was satisfied with the flutter of eyelids and quiet moan.

~

When they had both eaten far too much and savored every mouthful to surfeit, there were still a few more hours until dusk to fill. Edmund already had a few ideas, ones even Lucy would sanction. But Caspian beat him to it.

“Were we in Narnia, you would be a vision to behold. Perhaps less well-feasted, but much more brilliantly clad.”

Edmund shrugged. “We have the technology to make the most eye-searing purples and greens, but the attention it would garner is not worth the splash.”

The quirk of Caspian’s lips suggested otherwise. “We could always see how Narnian fare suits you..”

A few minutes later, Edmund emerged from the closet where Caspian’s garments had been stashed, wearing each and every one of them. The shoulders were a bit broad, the pants a bit long, but nothing a belt and a good pair of boots couldn’t fix. D

“Much better,” said Caspian, with a look of such approbation that Edmund felt the blush rise up from his neck and into his cheeks. Damned Englishman skintone.

“Do I look Narnian?” He struck a Kingly pose.

“Very.” Caspian laughed and came near to take him by the forearms. “It is like reading a storybook illustrated in browns and beiges, come suddenly to life in blues and greens.”

Edmund was very conscious of the warm grip on his arms. “I told you we were a drab lot,” and this time, he hadn’t the heart to wink.

“A beautiful lot,” and he felt the danger again, gazing into Caspian’s eyes. But it was not only himself he found reflected there, but a woman with wispy hair and kind eyes, with goggles pushed up above her forehead and sticky fingers.

The smell of sweet water and grass enveloped him. The smell of Narnia, not of drab Londontown. And she would never get to have any of it. “This is for both of us,” said Edmund, feeling dreadfully selfish, and closed the gap with a hand. He had to lift up a little to meet Caspian’s mouth, but not much. His lips were soft and warm and tasted of the world. Edmund tried to kiss him with every desire he’d felt in himself and read in Lucy’s eyes, but there’d been quite a lot in both, and he knew it would take far longer than they had. Or at least, far longer than he trusted himself with.

He drew back, came up for air. His fingers let go of Caspian’s face, to find their way to the folds of Caspian’s cloak. Edmund gripped tightly. “Now that you’ve had the best foods of our world...you really should read the greatest works of it. Before you go. I’m sure you haven’t come across _The Island of Doctor Moreau_ before, have you?”

So little time. They all had so little time. But he’d be damned if he’d leave Caspian wanting for anything in what they had left.

_The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ ended up in Caspian’s hands when he was finally shut up in Edmund’s bastion of a cage. And, pointedly, Caspian’s cloak was left neatly folded on a shelf in the garage where Lucy would come to deliver the dose that night.


End file.
